


Rockabye

by shiphitsthefan



Series: A Little Night Music [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: (regarding Padme's death), Accidental Ghost Incest, Alcohol, Anal Sex, Arguing, Bisexual Han Solo, Bisexual Luke Skywalker, Body Dysphoria, Cuddling & Snuggling, Cunnilingus, Dom/sub Undertones, F/M, Good Husband Han Solo, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Masturbation, Multi, POV Multiple, Polyamory, Pregnancy, Pregnant Sex, Telepathic Bond, The Droid and Wookie Crafting Coalition, Threesome - F/M/M, Twincest, probably not how the Force works
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-19
Updated: 2016-05-19
Packaged: 2018-06-08 12:31:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6854713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shiphitsthefan/pseuds/shiphitsthefan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He tried not to think about it, about the real possibility, however small, that he could lose Leia in less than six weeks. Han held her close at night, her head nestled in the hollow of his chest, the scent of her shampoo in his nostrils. He’d glance over and look at Luke, who was inevitably looking back because Han has never known and will never know how to shield his emotions, just flails them at everyone. Luke gave him a sad, sympathetic smile, and Han did his best to believe that, should Leia die, the two of them would be okay.</p><p>But he knew better. Han knew that, as much as he and Luke loved each other, Leia was the star that they orbit and, should that star die, they would go spinning off in different directions, planets in gravitational drift, never again to meet.</p><p>***</p><p>A selection of moments from a pregnancy shared. Takes place after <i>Return of the Jedi.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Rockabye

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by my bestie [betts](http://archiveofourown.org/users/betts/pseuds/betts/works), who pushed my flyboy butt down the Star Wars fandom trash chute. This is such a lovely, homey garbage compactor. I've named the dianoga "Steve".
> 
>  
> 
> _/Italicized text set between slashes (as demonstrated here) signifies telepathic communication./_
> 
>  
> 
>  I have no idea how long this series will end up being, but expect at least two more parts to it at some point.
> 
> Please do not repost/copy/duplicate this work to other sites. That's called theft.

Leia had known the moment she was going to conceive because her known universe became greater by one. There were suddenly three satellites in her orbit, shining brighter and more sharply-defined than before. Where once she had only felt impressions of the two men she loved, seen nothing more than reflected shadows when she closed her eyes and focused, she was now consumed by it, smothered with an energy older than time. It was a terrifying, ecstatic epiphany.

This, _ this _ is why it was called the Force. She’d briefly wondered why Luke had never told her how overwhelming it was, but the soul of the stars whispered in her belly that the connection had always been there. Leia had not suddenly become strong with the Force; the Force had become strong  _ within _ her.

Above her, Han wiped her loose hair from where it lay sweat-stuck on her brow. He kept stroking her skin, searching her face–and her eyes were closed but she saw it, saw the blood as it pumped through his heart, saw the electric impulses firing in his brain like so much discharged static from the barrel of an old blaster. He hadn’t withdrawn, but they’d have been joined regardless.

“You with me, princess?”

“More than you know,” she’d said, breathless, reaching out with her mind for the first time to Luke, reading in his quarters.

_ /I felt that,/ _ Luke told her.

_ /So I am–/ _

_ /You are,/ _ and his happiness unfolded in her heart, and his tears ran down her face, and they both pulled Han down to embrace him.

“You’re going to be a father,” they said.

Han grinned stupidly into her neck, speechless, so she matched her smile to his and kissed him.

He cradled her stomach in his hand like it wasn’t real unless he held on.

 

* * *

 

It was too much to bear, the chaos that blossomed in her womb. Leia felt unbalanced, like she was in a permanent state of disembodiment. With each day that passed, she became more withdrawn, an echo of herself.

The galaxy was too vast, and Leia had not been prepared to gradually feel it all.

Luke did his best to help, taught her to meditate. He hoped Leia would learn how to close her connection to the Force as a means of not only diminishing her presence, but that of every living melody she heard. They quickly discovered it wasn’t an option when she felt the life within her cry out in protest.

After that, Leia gave up, and accepted that this was her fate, to be conquered by an unseen, uncaring enemy, to be nothing but occupied territory.

And then the invader moved for the first time.

The galaxy shifted and shushed. There was immediate clarity. Her duality merged, and it was no longer a fetus that stole from her body. It was a partner; a student; a--

_ /A padawan?/ _ she asked.

_ /If that’s what the child has chosen, then yes,/ _ said Luke.

_ /But why? What happened?/ _

_ /You stopped struggling against it,/ _ Luke explained.  _ /You let go of your feelings. You mastered yourself and found balance./ _

_ /I came to terms with being a shuttle bay, you mean./ _

Luke laughed, and Leia smacked him upside the head.

“I’m serious!” he said out loud. “You were confused, so he was confused. You were in pain, and he felt it, and it frightened him.” He shook his head with an amazed smile and added, “He’s already very strong.”

The mechanical whoosh of the door to her quarters announced Han’s arrival. “Who’s ‘he’?” Han asked. “You got another secret brother you’re draggin’ into the Organa-Skywalker-Solo republic?”

“Don’t pretend you don’t love it,” Leia said with a smirk.

Han shrugged. “Long as it’s not Chewie.”

It wasn’t until she lay curled between them that night, Luke in her arms and Han’s face in her hair and hand on her swelling belly, that she remembered what Luke had said.

_ /It’s a boy?/ _

Luke pulled her hand to his lips and kissed her palm.  _ /Yes. A son./ _

Leia kicked backwards into Han’s shin. “Han?”

“Mmhmm,” he answered groggily.

“Luke says we’re having a boy.”

“Luke says a lot of things,” Han said around a yawn. “But I hope he’s right.”

“What would be wrong with a daughter?” she asked, annoyed.

“No offense, sweetheart,” began Han, burying his nose into the juncture of her neck and shoulder, “but I couldn’t take two of you.”

Luke snorted, and Han lifted his hand long enough to reach across Leia and ruffle his hair, and Leia pouted between them.

Her son swayed within her, and she was soon rocked to sleep.

 

* * *

 

“So what’s his name?” Han asked Luke as they sat outside the compound one night, passing a bottle of Corellian brandy back and forth between them.

“How should I know?” replied Luke before taking a long drink.

Han scoffed. “Well you seem to know everything else about what’s happening inside my wife.”

“We have a strong connection, Leia and I. We were two halves. Now, we’re two thirds.”

“It’s my kid, y’know.”

“It has nothing to do with genetics,” Luke reassured him, “and everything to do with energy.”

Han raised the bottle to his lips. “I don’t want you training him.”

“Why?”

“Nothing personal,” Han said with a sigh. “I just...If he’s as strong as you two say he is...I don’t know, seems dangerous is all.”

“Which is why he’ll need training,” said Luke.

Han shook his head and turned up the bottle. “Yeah, well. I don’t like it.”

“Trust me.”

“I do, Luke.” Han set down the bottle between them, raised his hands to hold either side of Luke’s face, and brought their foreheads together. “It’s the Force I don’t trust,” he said, his voice almost a whisper.

Luke waved the bottle away and kissed Han gently, slowly. At first, at least. Eventually, Luke would begin to lose his stoic self-control, and then he always kissed like Leia kissed, as if powered by the heat and intensity of an emerging sun, like it was the last time they would be together. Han and Luke melded and melted together, and it occurred to him--not for the first time--that, in a way, both his lovers were carrying his child.

If he could believe in Leia’s intentions for their son, then he could believe in Luke’s, too.

So Han shoved away his worry for the future and pushed Luke to the ground,  rolled them over with a feral grin, and held his hands up in mock surrender. He didn’t trust the Force, and he didn’t trust life, but he did trust this.

 

* * *

 

“Ben,” Leia said suddenly toward the end of her fifth month.

“I beg your pardon?” C3PO shifted to look at her, his head cocked quizzically to one side.

“The baby,” she elaborated. “His name is Ben.”

“Did you hear that, Artoo?”

Beside her, R2D2 rocked on its feet and whistled happily.

Later that night over dinner, Han said, “I can’t believe you told the droids first.”

 

* * *

 

Luke decided not to tell Leia that the ghost of their father followed her through the halls and sat in with her on her meetings with others who had disagreed with the military disarmament of the New Republic. He hadn’t seen Anakin since the celebration on Endor, and had thought that, like Obi-Wan and Yoda, his father had moved on and become truly one with the Force, flowing with and into the stream of life.

“You have to move on,” Luke said to him finally. “Your time has ended, Father.”

“No,” said Anakin. “No, Luke. You’re going to need me. She’s going to need me. You  _ all _ are going to need me.”

Luke’s face softened. “She’ll be alright. She’ll pull through.”

Anakin shook his head. “Not the delivery. I’m not worried about that. Leia has Han, has you. Your mother was…” He closed his eyes and sighed. “Padmé was alone.”

Luke reached out to him, unthinkingly, wanting to support him, shoulder some of his pain.

“That would be impossible, my son.”

“I’m sorry,” Luke said.

“Never feel guilt for that which lies beyond your blame,” Anakin told him. “Too much of your mother in you.” He paused before adding, “She would be so proud of you. But I don’t need to tell you that.”

“If you aren’t here for the birth--”

“Oh, you misunderstand,” Anakin said. “I am very much here for the birth, but most importantly for the days beyond. There’s so much anger within her already...”

“Yeah,” Luke said with a chuckle, “that sounds like Leia, alright.”

“The boy, Luke.”

Luke frowned and looked at Anakin searchingly. “What about him?”

“You must be careful with him.”

“Father,” he asked, “is something wrong with him?”

Anakin smiled ruefully. “I’m afraid he’s too much like his grandfather.”

 

* * *

 

Han did all the requisite data-scouring, trying to wrap his brain around exactly what was happening to his wife. He scoured the remaining records of the Coruscanti midwives--it made sense to do so, to make Leia as comfortable as possible with the practices of her homeworld. Han tried to parse together the surgical gibberish of her birth on Polis Massa, bewildered at the cause of death for her mother being listed as suicide. Then he was scared that there was something so terrible about the birthing process that it could cause Leia to choose death, that their child would be half an orphan, that he would be left to grieve what could have been for the rest of his life.

He tried not to think about it, about the real possibility, however small, that he could lose Leia in less than six weeks. Han held her close at night, her head nestled in the hollow of his chest, the scent of her shampoo in his nostrils. He’d glance over and look at Luke, who was inevitably looking back because Han has never known and  _ will _ never know how to shield his emotions, just flails them at everyone. Luke gave him a sad, sympathetic smile, and Han did his best to believe that, should Leia die, the two of them would be okay.

But he knew better. Han knew that, as much as he and Luke loved each other, Leia was the star that they orbit and, should that star die, they would go spinning off in different directions, planets in gravitational drift, never again to meet.

Han tried to read a more colloquially-written account of pregnancy and delivery--some tripe about expecting while expecting that did nothing to soothe him and only added to his worries. He had never read this much in his entire life, walking around with his nose glued to his datapa when he wasn’t busy fixing ships or “securing” tech and supplies gathered from the aftermath. Nothing explained the particular problem he’d been confronted with, only presented new ones.

He’d asked Chewie about it, because he was his copilot in life as well as the Falcon, and gotten a long, blank stare followed by a glottal screech of intense disapproval. Han had commed Lando to pull him away from his work aside and gotten an incredulous look and a, “Why don’t you go ask Luke?” So he did, and wasn’t surprised when Luke made a series of noncommittal responses about the flux of the internal Force and some mumbo-jumbo about the coalescence of the energy of the universe and Han had to kiss him to shut him up.

The fact of the matter was that Leia, with increasing frequency, glared at Nothing. She told Nothing to stop and quit and leave her alone. Leia had staring contests with Luke over breakfast; Han watched them argue silently over Nothing, which was almost definitely Something, but neither one of them was willing to talk about what was happening, and it was driving him completely up the blast shielding.

And he didn’t  _ dare  _ ask his wife if she was being hormonal, because he really didn’t want to wind up sleeping in the shuttle bay again. He couldn’t believe Luke wouldn’t let him use his bunk, but that was the trouble of being in a relationship with a matching set.

Leia’s anger was palpable at all times here in the home stretch, the air around her as heavy as her belly. They still had sex, and he wanted to take it slow, make it sweet, treat her like the precious treasure she was, but Leia would have none of it. She wanted it hard and fast and rough--”Remind me I’m mine, that my body is mine,” she ordered him, “remind me that I’m in control.” And when she was sated and satisfied, she reclined like the queen she should be and watched Luke take Han just the same, quick and dirty, kissed the sweat off Han’s brow as he waited for Luke to release his hold on him and finally let him come.

He loved belonging to them, these twin forces of destruction and creation. But he didn’t love the simmering fury that neither of them could hide when they fell over the edge, an unwelcome accompaniment to the orgasmic rush of Force they couldn’t control that never failed to wash over him. It usually left him dizzy, breathless; now, Han felt hollow.

It was how he felt as he opened the door to their quarters, covered in grease and sweat. They were ten weeks away from her due date, give or take, and he’d been doing his best to keep her calm, to deal with the mood swings and her insistence on cleaning everything and moving all the furniture around and all of the other bizarre nesting instincts she’d suddenly acquired. Han nearly tripped over her basket of failed knitting projects, had to step around some mechanical monstrosity that would apparently pump milk from his wife, a concept that absolutely  _ horrified _ him. He swore as he stubbed his toe in the process against the half-constructed changing table, which Luke insisted that he would put together without Han’s help.

Han started to call for her, but heard her out on the patio first.

“I hate you!” she shouted, and his heart stopped for several breaths, scared Leia was addressing him or, even worse, Luke. He peered out the window once he remembered how to move, and suddenly couldn’t decide if her screaming at the air was worse.

Han felt like he was intruding on a personal conversation, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away.

“I don’t  _ care _ if you want to be in his life,” Leia shouted at the Something, which was absolutely Someone. “I don’t  _ care  _ if you want to talk to him, or guide him, or help him, because I don’t want you here. I hate you,” she continued, fists clenched, and she took a deep breath, channeling the calm control of her senatorial self. “You left my mother to die. I grew up my entire life with an emptiness I couldn’t fill because my brother was lost to me and I never knew. I grew up to stand against you, to defy you, and do you remember what you did? Do you?”

Han blinked rapidly to clear his vision as the air in front of her appeared to shift, but it didn’t stop. He was about as Force-sensitive as a sheet of duracrete, but the discomfort and sorrow was still palpable.

“You let them kill my parents, my  _ real _ parents. You let them destroy my world and held me still so I could watch. You tortured me for information. You knew who I was, and  _ you tortured me anyway. _ ”

And Han had never known. Leia had never told him what had transpired before her “rescue” from the Death Star. He felt stupid, because it never occurred to him to ask, and it suddenly dawned on him how little the three of them truly knew about each other. They fell together with the human urge to survive and feel alive in any way possible, with the leftover kinetic energy and adrenaline from fighting a war no one thought could be won.

It was all they really had.

“You’re a  _ monster,” _ she told the Someone who was her father. “I want nothing to do with you. I want you nowhere  _ near _ my child. Stop haunting me. You aren’t wanted, and you aren’t welcome. Just go away, and don’t ever come back.”

Leia stormed back in as Han did his best to look inconspicuous, but they both knew that he heard.

Han asked Luke about it later, if he had known that their father had been visiting. Luke smiled sadly and said, “I miss Father’s presence, but it was time for him to move on.” They didn’t discuss it further--Han knew what it was like to ignore the wounds of absent family, understood that it was better to suture it up and pretend the scar didn’t exist.

Leia never addressed the air behind her again.

 

* * *

 

“We need a plan,” Han shouted over the comm at Lando as he and Luke tried to piece the durasteel frame of the crib together.

“What,” asked Lando, “didn’t you get Threepio to translate the instructions for that?”

“Are you kidding me? He’s taken it upon himself to completely outfit this kid. You remember that real nice dress Leia wore for the wedding?”

“Yeah, yeah, the blue one with the unnecessary number of buttons, right?”

Han  _ hmmed _ his acknowledgment around the wrench in his mouth.

“So what about it?”

“It’s been turned into seven of those infant bodysuit...things,” Luke told Lando. “I thought Leia was going to deactivate him.”

“She still might,” Han said as he switched out the wrench for another, smaller wrench.

“And Chewie’s taken up handweaving,” continued Luke, “so Ben has an endless supply of blankets and hats and socks.”

Lando barked a laugh. “I’m having a difficult time picturing all this.”

“Well I am  _ living it, _ Lando,” Han snapped, letting the small wrench fall from between his teeth, “so I don’t want to hear--no, no, Luke, that’s where the central support goes.”

“What central support?” asked Luke.

“The thing with the...the other thing that connects to the...the... _ other _ other thing.”

Lando quipped, “I see your technical prowess still knows no bounds.”

“Shut up.” Han scratched behind his ear and stared hopelessly at the skeleton of the crib. “What am I doing, Lando?”

“Are we back to you needing a plan?”

“We’re nowhere near a properly equipped medcenter and she’s not safe for space at this point,” began Han, handing tools to Luke as he motioned for them. “Me and Luke can’t deliver this kid. We can’t even put furniture together.”

“Han,” said Lando soothingly. “You’re gonna do fine.”

“I’m gonna be a disaster is what I’m gonna be.”

Lando chuckled. “You’re always a disaster.”

“Didn’t I already tell you to shut your mouth?”

“And don’t I keep offering to let you make me?”

Han sighed and tossed both wrenches back into pile of durasteel; they landed with an angry, nerve-jarring clang. “I have a matching pair of Skywalkers already, Lando. My plate’s kinda full.”

“Well,” Lando replied, “you know where I am if you change your mind and need time away from your women.”

“Funny,” said Luke, and he turned off the comm. He moved over to sit next to Han, both of them leaning against the back of the couch, eyes closed. After a long while, he said, “You could, you know.”

Han cracked open one eye. “Could what?”

“You and Lando.”

“Oh sure,” scoffed Han. “Leia would be real happy about me rekindling old flames.”

Luke shrugged. “Never know unless you ask.”

 

* * *

 

_ I’ll never forget the first time I saw you, _ Leia wrote in her pregnancy datapad.  _ Your father had to commandeer thirteen medical shipments from the First Order before he found enough equipment to put together the right scanner. (I told him it wasn’t necessary, that I knew you better than most women knew their children in the womb, but he was adamant that we,  _ _ “see him before we see him.” He’s hopeless sometimes, Ben, but his heart’s in it.) _ _ Uncle Luke hooked Artoo up to the machine so we could record a holovid, and then I stood in front of the scanner and your father switched it on. _

_ And there you were. _

_ And you were real. _

_ And you were beautiful. _

_ The projection was fuzzy, no matter how many times your uncle fiddled with it. (Your father was too busy staring at you in the strange sort of open-mouthed wonder he usually reserves for being caught off guard or in a lie or sometimes both.) But I could count your fingers, your toes, your limbs. You must have been asleep, because I knew you would have looked at me otherwise. _

_ It probably won’t make sense to you, but I was most drawn to your ears. I guess even then I knew that someday you wouldn’t be able to hear my thoughts, nor I yours. Someday your ears would be the only way of understanding my voice. _

_ I sang out loud to you for the first time. It had never seemed important before, not until I saw your tiny fists next to your perfect little ears. _

 

_ I was a saber in fist _

_ I was a shield in battle _

_ I was a string on a drumheller harp _

_ And I was a youngling in cradle _

 

_ I was a breath in the sand _

_ I was a cloak in shadow _

_ I was a ship on a turbulent sea _

_ And I was a youngling in cradle _

 

_ I was bone in the forest _

_ I was blood in the meadow _

_ I was skin in the young widow’s pyre _

_ And I was a youngling in cradle _

 

_ Your fist will hold a sabre _

_ Your shield to bear in battle _

_ Your name a song on a drumheller harp _

_ But for now you’re a youngling in cradle _

 

_ It’s the only song I remember my nursemaid singing to me. Your grandmother never sang, but Navit hummed and murmured constantly, and “Cad Takodana” was my favorite. _

_ Your father’s asked me to sing it to him every night since. He said he’d never heard a lullaby before. The whole song is ages and ages long, so I only sing him the initial bits and don’t tell him about the rest; he and your uncle are both out within six verses, anyway. _

_ That can be our first little secret, Benny. _

 

* * *

 

“What do you mean you can’t eat this?”  Han’s voice echoed from the kitchen.

Luke rubbed the sleep out of his eyes as he sat up. His sleep had been terrible as of late--Han and Leia’s bed had barely been big enough for all three of them before, let alone now--and it didn’t help that Leia was broadcasting her exhaustion through the mind link. They had taken to sleeping in together, and napping together, and sleeping longer and napping later, and he was honestly surprised that Han hadn’t complained about being the only one doing any work.

“Do you know how hard it was to even  _ find _ a gartro egg? ,” Han continued. Those are mostly extinct now, you know, gartros.  You wouldn’t _ believe _ the series of intensely personal favors I owe Lando. ”

Leia sighed, and Luke’s eyes rolled along with hers in sympathy.  “Yes, Han, I was there when those screeching menaces blew up along with the rest of my planet.”

“Oh, come on, don’t pull that card on me, not after I made you breakfast.”

“That I can’t eat--”

“Gartro egg omelet, just like your mother-- ” Han paused for a moment. “Actually, your mother probably never touched a heat coil. But just like on Coruscant.”

“It’s not personal, Han,” Leia told him in her most patronizing voice. “But it has jerba cheese--”

“Well, maybe not  _ exactly _ the same as on Coruscant.”

“--which is strictly prohibited during pregnancy.”

A long pause punctuated only by the sputtering of the  caf-droid , then, “You could have a bite.”

“No, Han, I couldn’t!”

Luke sighed, stared at the bedroom door until it shut itself, turned over, and went back to sleep.

 

* * *

 

_ /I want to watch you fall apart for him,/ _ Leia said, reclining back into the pillows, hands between her thighs.  _ /I never see what you do without me. Show me./ _

Luke looked up at her from where he lay beside her leg, running his fingertips up and down the bare skin.  _ /Why?/ _

_ /I want to know what I’m missing,/ _ she admitted.  _ /Convince me I should do more than kiss you./ _

_ /You’re greedy tonight. I like it./ _

Leia shrugged, her mouth stretching into a sly smile. _ /I’m allowed./ _

“You two wanna clue me in, or do I need to go take care of this myself?” asked Han from Leia’s other side.

“Your wife wants you to take care of me,” Luke said.

Han peaked at Luke over Leia’s belly, his eyebrows raised in disbelief. “What, I’m supposed to ravage you on a mattress?” He shook his head in false dismay. “That ain’t our style.”

“Are you really going to deny the wishes of the woman carrying your child?” Leia asked him. “That sounds dangerous to me.”

“Well you better scoot your pretty self over then, your highness.” Han grinned excitedly and swung himself over Leia, settling in on top of Luke. “I’m calling the shots here for once.”

Leia lay down on her side at the head of the bed. She slid her hands down Luke’s arms as far as she could, then pulled them up above his head, her fingers wrapped around his wrists.

_ /Oh, so  _ that’s  _ how this is going to be./ _

She kissed the top of Luke’s head.  _ /Complaints?/ _

Luke grasped her wrists in return. _ /Never./ _

Han’s mouth wound a warm trail under his jaw and down his neck. He closed his eyes to focus on the sensation, to quiet his mind, but every breath he took was a breath of Leia. Luke tilted his head involuntarily, chasing the scent of her sex on her fingers, reveling in that which had been denied him so many times.

_ /I love you, Leia,/ _ he told her, gasping as Han’s teeth scraped at a nipple.  _ /I love you in all the worst ways./ _

Her thumbs caressed up and down his wrists.  _ /Tell me./ _

_ /There aren’t words for it,/ _ said Luke, choking back a moan as Han worked his way up the other side of his neck, pressing him into the mattress, grinding their hips together.  _ /It’s simple but complicated. Pure but obscene. It is and it isn’t./ _

She snorted above him. _ /That isn’t vague, at all./ _

Han asked, “What’s so funny?” Before teasing his tongue up the shell of Luke’s ear.

“Luke.”

“Well that’s nothing new,” and he punctuated it with a playful bite turned sucking kiss as Luke squirmed beneath him.

It was always strange for Luke, the feeling of arousal coiling in his gut, the bright flare of warmth in his mind, the aura of chaos that sex seemed to evoke. He felt most connected with the Force in these moments when nothing but power flooded his veins. Luke couldn’t control it, they’d discovered, couldn’t keep all the churning emotion to himself, couldn’t shield anything like this. It was easier when he took the lead, holding Han down while Leia chased her own pleasure, then seeking his own. But when it was he who surrendered, Luke lost himself, felt the eddies of memories move through him like a mist and trembled at the current that sung on every nerve.

_ / _ _ From the moment I met you all those years ago, not a day has gone by when I haven’t thought of you./ _ He couldn’t concentrate, not anymore; he was nothing more than a conduit, pushing words that weren’t his out of the depths of his soul.  _ /And now that I’m with you again, I’m in agony./ _

Luke felt the gentle searching of Han’s fingers like a distant pressure, his body opening for him, relaxing, inviting. He heard his pleasure as if through a dream, muted and whispered.

But Leia’s mind was loud as it echoed in his own.

_ /The closer I get to you, the worse it gets,/ _ she said, dazed.  _ /The thought of not being with you…/ _ Leia let go of one of his hands to cradle the side of his face instead.  _ /I can’t breathe./ _

He turned his face into her palm, kissing it reverently. This was bigger than they were, and he knew it, knew there was some missing piece falling into place, some unknown reclamation.  _ /I’m haunted by the kiss that you should never have given me./ _

_ /My heart is beating, hoping that kiss will not become a scar./  _ Leia’s fingers wound in his hair, and Luke keened, thinking about the scent of her marking him.

_ /You are in my very soul, tormenting me./ _

_ /What can I do? I will do anything you ask. If you are suffering as much as I am, please, tell me./ _

Han entered him in one long, controlled thrust; he set the rhythm, and Luke returned it eagerly, angling his hips until they both were gasping for breath, chasing each other. He watched Leia watching, waiting, arm beneath her swollen breasts to support them, biting her lips as she stared at her lovers embracing. She relinquished Luke’s other hand so that Han could hold it and lace their fingers together.

_ /Let me taste you,/ _ Luke begged.  _ /Please, Leia. Let me know more than your mind and the feel of your mouth against mine./ _

She hesitated before running her hand in a slow drag down her body, and Luke couldn’t turn away. He felt Han slow, moaned as he pulled Luke’s fingers into his mouth one at a time, but neither of them looked at each other, only at Leia. Smiling, she sank her fingers into herself with a sigh, teased herself as much as she did them.

When Leia held her hand to his mouth, Luke practically dove for it, eyes closed, savoring.

“Fuck, that’s hot,” he heard Han swear as they rolled against each other. But Luke’s focus had narrowed completely to Leia, the smell of her, the taste of her, the warmth of her. “Shit, Luke, you look  _ starved _ for it.”

_ /You were, weren’t you?/ _ Leia casually observed, curling her finger along with the movement of his tongue.

_ /More. Please, I need  _ more _./  _ Luke broke for air like a man drowning, and he was, smothered in their endorphins, lost in their lust. He pulled away from Han but barely registered the complaint as he turned over, maneuvered Leia where he wanted her, and put his mouth to her for the first time, licking and  kissing and sucking, already completely addicted to her taste and her warmth.

Luke heard Han move behind him, and then a hand gripped his hips hard enough to bruise and Han slid home again. He looked up, just for a moment, long enough to commit the image of Leia bracing her hands back against the headboard, head fallen back, mouth slack in her pleasure as Han pushed his face deeper into her cunt. Luke fucked into Han's fist desperately as he moaned into her, both of them static in the other’s mind, an endless loop of pulsating need.

When the wave finally crested, Luke was nothing more than an echo of his sister’s shout.

 

* * *

 

“You felt them, didn’t you?” Leia asked Luke in hushed voice over her husband’s snores. She propped herself up slowly on her forearm to look over at the back of his head, his body tucked firmly against Han’s.

“Mother and Father?”

“Padmé and Anakin,” she corrected. “But you did?”

“Yes.”

Leia exhaled and leaned down to press a kiss into her husband’s hair. “Does it bother you?”

“No,” said Luke around a yawn, pushing a vague feeling of reconciliation over the mindlink.  _ /They needed it as much as we did. What are the living but hosts for the memories of others?/ _

_ /Is that what Ben will be? Nothing more than an inheritance?/ _

_ /The Force is an endless cycle./ _

_ /That’s not an answer, Luke. You know what I’m asking./ _

Luke flung an arm back, searching for her.  _ /We’ll raise him with hope. With love. But his choices are his own, in the end./ _

Her sleep was troubled, and the babe within her restless.

**Author's Note:**

> "Cad Takodana" was inspired by the 14th century Welsh poem ["Cad Goddeu"](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cad_Goddeu) (or "Battle of the Trees"), a translation of which you can read [here](http://www.celtic-twilight.com/camelot/poetry/taliesin/cad_goddeu.htm). I decided to use "Cad Goddeu" because John Williams used a Sanskrit translation of it for "[Duel of the Fates](https://youtu.be/qzVBqBosf5w)" in _The Phantom Menace_. As for Takodana, I chose it because it was not only the site of a battle in _The Force Awakens_ , but also for [a battle between the Jedi and the Sith](http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Battle_of_Takodana); Maz Kanata would later build her castle over the battlefield.
> 
> You can find me on my [tumblr](http://shiphitsthefan.tumblr.com/). I also chirp occasionally witty things on [twitter](https://twitter.com/shiphitsthefan).
> 
> Kudos and comments validate my existence. <3


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